#EnglishWriters #Victorian
HEAVENBORN Helen, Sparta’s q… (O Troy Town!) Had two breasts of heavenly sheen, The sun and moon of the heart’s de… All Love’s lordship lay between.
A PIPPO Pipistrello Farfalla la fanciulla: “O vedi quanto è bello Ridendo in questa culla! E noi l’abbiamo fatto,
“WHY wilt thou cast the roses fro… Nay, be thou all a rose,—wreath, l… Nay, not this house,—that banquet—… See how they kiss and enter; come… This delicate day of love we two w…
As thy friend’s face, with shadow… Somewhile unto thy sight perchance… Ghastly and strange, yet never so… In thought, but to all fortunate f… As thy love’s death—bound features…
THE hop—shop is shut up: the nigh… Here, early, Collinson this eveni… “Into the gulfs of sleep”; and De… Has turned upon the pivot of his c… The whole of this night long; and…
Dusk—haired and gold—robed o’er th… She stoops, wherein, distilled of… Sink the black drops; while, lit w… Round her spread board the golden… Doth Helios here with Hecate comb…
On landing, the first voice one he… An English police—constable; a ma… Respectful, conscious that at need… Enforce respect. Our custom—house… Strict too, but quiet. Not the fo…
OLTRE tomba Qualche cosa? E che ne dici? Saremo felici? Terra mai posa,
THOU fill’st from the winged cha… Thy lamp, O Memory, fire—winged t…
The changing guests, each in a dif… Sit at the roadside table and aris… And every life among them in like… Is a soul’s board set daily with n… What man has bent o’er his son’s s…
Woolner and Stephens, Collinson,… And my first brother, each and eve… What portion is theirs now beneath… Which, even as here, in England m… For most of them life runs not the…
(In the Academy of Bruges) MYSTERY: God, man’s life, born… Of woman. There abideth on her br… The ended pang of knowledge, the w… Is calm assured. Since first her…
Chins that might serve the new Je… Streets footsore; minute whisking… Dubbed graceful, but at whom one’s… Knowing of England; ladies, much… Bland smiling dogs with manes—a fe…
I deemed thy garments, O my Hope,… So far I viewed thee. Now the spa… Is passed at length; and garmented… Even as in days of yore thou stand… Ah God! and but for lingering dul…
Gustave Flaubert, whose honoured… Was to be scribe to Nero’s soul, And make French flesh to creep an… O’er Carthaginian Salammbô, Lies here—in body, as in the brain…